


summer skies will light your eyes

by Anonymous



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: summer 1991





	summer skies will light your eyes

“Looking forward to getting home?” Graham asks you like he actually cares. You knows he doesn’t but you indulge anyway; it’s nice to pretend there’s something akin to genuine interest between you, not just a joint love for booze, drugs and music.  
“Yeah, man. Fuckin’ knackering out here.” You mumble in reply, picking at the cuff of your jumper. Not shy - never shy - just coming down from the tour-length binge you’ve all indulged in. You’re fidgety, restless and aching to get home, feigned indifference be damned.  
“Back to your little shitebag of a brother. Can’t be looking forward to that, I spent 20 fuckin’ minutes with that kid and I needed a full day to recover.” Graham chuckles, shoving you a little with his shoulder.  
Normally you’d agree. You’d deliver a barrage of abuse at your brother, an entire sea away, but knowing he could probably hear or at least sense it anyway. But you haven’t seen said brother in months and as much as your blood still boils from the memory of his final well placed punch that had been his goodbye, you miss the little twat.  
But you can’t disagree with Graham. Everyone knows about you and him, the rivalry, the arguments, the mutual irritation. To disagree would be to confuse everyone and you really can’t be having that.  
“God, don’t get me started. Hate the cunt.” 

But in your head, you’re imagining how wide Liam’s gonna smile when he sees you stepping through the front door. 

_____

Okay, maybe a few too many nights missing your dickhead of a baby brother made you sugar coat your reunion. 

In the real world, the world that’s all grey cloudy Manchester skies and red brick and yellowing grass, Liam watches you walking up the front path with eyes so sharply angry that you’re almost scared to walk any closer. But two can play at this game, and all that he gives you in unmeasured, irrational anger you can give in carefully maintained coldness. God knows a bit of that is necessary with this unnatural English summer heat. 

“Cunt.” is the first word that makes its way out of Liam’s mouth, lips as pink and pillowy as you remember.  
“Charming.” You sigh, failing to give eye contact. You know how to rile him up.  
“I haven’t fuckin’ missed you.” He tells you, nodding his head like it’s just fact, pure and simple. The lack of dedication in his hard stance tells you otherwise. And the slight blushing of his cheeks when you pat him on the shoulder.  
“Good job, because I didn’t either. Was getting laid everyday on tour. Never gonna happen now what with you following me round like a fuckin’ dumb dog.”  
“You really think I care? Got a girlfriend, me,” Bless him, the sadness is reflected in those baby blues.  
“What d’you do with her? Shut your eyes, take her up the arse and pretend?” You’re digging, you know you are but everything the two of you have kept bottled up since you left at the beginning of March has to empty out somehow.  
“I ain’t fuckin’ bent, unlike you! “Getting laid everyday”? What with? Scummy rent boys, how many fuckin’ diseases have you come back with?”  
You breathe heavily through your nose. You’re wondering who’s gonna throw a punch first. Your left fist is clenched just like his right is.  
“What are you, jealous? They’ve got a better chance at a career than you ever will, how’s the Monkees tribute band going, love?” 

You grin as blood begins to pour from your nose faster than your thoughts can keep up with. Liam’s bottom lip is wobbling, his knuckles dappled with red, soon-to-be-purple. 

Finally you pull him into your arms. 

_____

You swear you’ve never felt so bloody hot. The air’s heavy with the heat, everything hanging off you like Liam is on your arm. You’re sat in a field in the middle of nowhere, the result of Liam’s desperation to be together in public and your paranoia. You’ve barely kissed properly yet, save for drunken slobbery messes for the benefit of girls who wanna see if you’ve got the bottle. You know though, you know that during the 3 months you’ve been away you’ve both been doing some thinking. 

As though he can read your mind, Liam stares into your eyes, all strangely unfocused focused drunkenness.  
“I sort of love you Noel like”. He sighs, breath smelling like sweet strawberry wine. “Whilst you was gone, man. Made me realise. Love you more, like. More than I should. We should.” Lazy, half-finished sentences and clammy hands on your Inspirals tour shirt, the kid’s the cutest thing this side of the North divide but you wouldn’t dare tell him. 

Instead you pull him up by the neck of his t-shirt, his whimpers making your skin prickle and press your chapped lips against his soft pink ones. He whines into your mouth, eager fruit flavoured tongue licking along your teeth till you’re both moaning and clawing at each other’s clothes desperately. 

Then suddenly you break away, the feeling of his cock hardening against your thigh too much too soon and Liam, surprisingly, sighs happily and leans against your shoulder as you light up a cigarette and breath in deeply. 

You sit in a silence that’s never felt so okay. 

______

The house is dark and silent. Liam must be asleep or out with his little schemey mates wrecking havoc on the poor streets of Manchester. You’re not as drunk as you’d like to be after a night out and the quickly aborted snog you’d had with a pretty petite blonde on the dance floor hangs heavy at the back of your mind. 

You sort of just wanna have a wank thinking about the really attractive bird in Berlin who’d let you hold her wrists up against the headboard whilst you’d fucked into her so hard your legs had ached for days. To remind yourself of what you like. Girls, girls, girls. 

Every heaving breath you used to trudge up the stairs leaves you at the sight you see through you and Liam’s half closed bedroom door. 

Your brother. Your baby brother, the boy you’ve shared a room with for all the life you remember, the kid you’ve seen cry because of his scuffed knee, the lad you’ve punched till you were both bleeding red, is lying on the bed - your bed - with his hand racing up and down his cock. He’s moaning quietly, left hand fisted in the sheets and pulling ever so slightly as he gets closer and closer. 

“Please, _please_. Noel, you _cunt_. Harder”  
If all your blood that wasn’t already there hadn’t just collected in your crotch you would have laughed and rolled your eyes at his choice of language. But as it stands your little brother is about to come begging you for more and it’s quite hard to think about anything other than the way his hand is wrapped around his cock, glistening with precome and red with the friction. You move to adjust yourself, to relieve the pressure a little when Liam suddenly throws his head back and moans Noel to the ceiling, painting his stomach white. 

It’s the first time you see him come. 

______

A week later and you haven’t spent more than a few minutes in each other’s company. To Mam it seems perfectly normal - it’s a beautiful summer, you’re both out with your mates probably getting up to stuff she doesn’t want to know about. She isn’t aware that you can’t look Liam in the eye without hearing his begging ringing around your brain, his broken breathy moans and fucking hell, the way he’d whined your name. You’d like to keep it that way. 

But now it’s been a whole week, a week of a summer that you’d promised yourself would be yours and Liam’s, and your brother who’s only just finished growing, sits beside you on the worn living room settee, licking around the lid of his can of cider. His beloved Fred Perry polo shirt pulls tight at his shoulders, the collar fraying and the buttons long since having fallen off revealing the delicate white of his chest, fragile enough that you almost want to shut the curtains to stop it burning. You watch him lick his bitter apple-flavoured lips and try not to imagine those same lips forming around those words...

“You saw.” He says finally. 

It’s been days coming and you want to scream. Liam’s still licking those perfect lips, eyes trained on you and heavy with Liamness. His determination, his need, his brutal honesty. The things that make your brother your brother. You wish the things that made you _you_ stopped him from wanting so much. 

“You saw.” He repeats, voice somehow lazy and bored. Only Liam. 

“Don’t know what you’re on about, kid.” You mutter, picking at your nails. Never shy - until now that is. 

“I think you fuckin’ do.” He licks his lips again, deliberate and calculated, “I think you do. And I think you wanna see again.” 

You pray to the heavens, to whatever God is up there, that something will stop this. Even just Mam returning home from her afternoon shift or Paul stumbling in looking for some decent grub. But Mam’s working a long day today and Paul’s away with his girlfriend at Blackpool soaking up the sun and God long since gave up on you. The minute you dreamt of Liam shivering and groaning underneath you, cock hard and heavy because of you. You’re on your own. 

“Liam.” You begin, ready to start sprouting some god-awful bollocks in an attempt to rationalise the situation, counteract Liam’s burning passion with some semblance of sensibility. But you’re too late as Liam bridges the gap between you and pulls you into a bruising kiss, pulling at the curling strands of hair at the base of your neck. 

You can feel the bastard smiling into the kiss as you pull him into your lap. 

_______

The guilt must be crushing, you’d guess, if you weren’t entirely uncaring from a healthy amount of alcohol and cocaine. You feel the slightest of squeezing around your heart, like an afterthought of shame as you push into Liam, who’s skin is dusty pink and glittering with sweat. 

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous,” you mutter as you brush a hand across his hard nipples, rolling them a little between your fingers, just to hear his keening.  
“Noel.” He blushes and you feel everything prickle with something you’d suppose a normal man would call love. Shame it’s for your little brother. 

You know sex with him won’t be like this all the time. You’re already bursting with a need to see Liam with tears in his eyes, screaming for you with his hands held above his head but for your first time together, it feels right and good to put in the time and love and care. You know he deserves it and you hate yourself for wanting to give him anything less than he does. 

(But maybe _you_ deserve something rough and desperate and fucked up, you can’t help but think) 

Liam’s breathy little groans bring your attention back to now, right now, you’re fucking your bloody brother, for God’s sake. It shouldn’t feel so perfect. His hands are wrapped tight around your neck, his teeth nibbling along your collarbone as you thrust steadily. You wish you could call him darling. 

It doesn’t take long for him to finish in a mess between you, louder than you thought was humanly possible. Liam isn’t quite human though. He can’t be, not when he’s like an angel turned to Satan because he got bored. You close your eyes and imagine him, so sweet and innocent, how he used to be, and come, filling your baby brother up finally with only the slightest hint of guilt. 

You hate yourself for what you’ve done but you really can’t bring yourself to care.

_______

The next morning you wake up to soft strands of hair wrapped around your fingers. The room is yellow and Liam’s glowing gold. He turns up his face to watch you, Bambi eyelashes matted with sleep. He’s smiling so, so prettily. You curse whoever let Liam exist and who let you feel the way you do. You curse everyone and everything silently until Liam leaps out of bed and reappears in your line of sight wearing your favourite t-shirt, oversized so it flaps around his pale smooth thighs. He smiles again, now a grin and you find yourself wishing instead. 

Wishing for a world where you and Liam were allowed.  
Wishing for a world where you could love him like he needs you too.  
The room is yellow and Liam’s glowing gold but you’re just grey.

**Author's Note:**

> title is lyrics from the stone roses demo your time will come!  
> the timeline of this is a bit shite bc i originally intended it to be 89 before realising last minute that would make liam 16 which wasn’t what i wanted. therefore there’s no mention of noel watching oasis’ first show but tbf that happened in august and i imagine this as set june/july time  
> apologies for the no doubt shitty “sex scenes”  
> comments welcome!


End file.
